


Momentum

by taekiab



Series: Like a Melody [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-29
Updated: 2013-11-29
Packaged: 2018-01-02 23:43:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1063088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taekiab/pseuds/taekiab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It started, out of nowhere. No, out of everywhere, the perfect mix of notes and keys, breaths and pauses, the great crescendo of their mutual fixation (admiration?) swelling until it just was. Or, at least that’s how Stiles explains it, when he’s feeling lofty and particularly romantic.</p>
<p>To be honest, it started subtly and without either of them noticing until it was too late.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Momentum

**Author's Note:**

> This is a pre-quel to the rest of the series. I have a couple of stories that I'm working on that follow this series and this unaired prequel (of sorts) was cut when I first posted but becomes somewhat necessary to explain stuff in future stories, so enjoy.
> 
> Un-beta'd.

**July 2016**

It started, out of nowhere. No, out of everywhere, the perfect mix of notes and keys, breaths and pauses, the great crescendo of their mutual fixation (admiration?) swelling until it just was. Or, at least that’s how Stiles explains it, when he’s feeling lofty and particularly romantic.

To be honest, it started subtly and without either of them noticing until it was too late.

Stiles spent most of his high school years alternating between saving Derek’s life and having Derek save his life. However, after the rogue hunters, and Kanimas and Alpha packs and witches were gone, or at least stopped slipping into their territory with regularity, he and Derek still found reasons to see each other. In a completely non-romantic kind of way. It wasn’t like Derek was universally and unnaturally attractive and Stiles enjoyed looking at him as much as he enjoyed seeing him. Or that Stiles was surprisingly good at this werewolf business, and uniquely understood the stress, and guilt, and loss that Derek carried around with him. No, really, they just needed each others help with important things, like research.

They were sitting on the floor of Stiles’s bedroom the summer after the teens had graduated from High School, Stiles looking over a couple of the tombs of werewolf history that Derek managed to excavate from the charred remains of his family home while Derek sketched whatever it was Derek sketched off in the corner, answering questions as Stiles came up with them. It was a miserable summer in Beacon hills the heat had hit record levels and whereas they might normally study somewhere outside, nearer the apartment Derek had let his betas bully him into renting, they needed the air conditioning Stiles’s room provided. Which was why they were in a quiet enough space that Derek could hear Stiles’s every shift, the crack of his neck, his breath hitch every time he read something curious. Drawing usually diverted his focus but not today. It was like a buzzing, the hyper-awareness Derek was feeling at that moment. He was just about to walk down the stairs or throw himself out the window to get away from the sounds when Stiles looked up.

“This, this is interesting,” he started, placing his pen in his mouth, then pulling it out. Derek watched the pen roll over Stiles’s lips, captivated. “How many generations back did the wolfyness go in your family?” Stiles asked, flicking the pen towards Derek, who flinched at the saliva coming off of it.

“Stiles, that’s really gross,” he said ignoring the question momentarily.

“Yeah, sorry, mindless habits. How far?” 

“I dunno, at least one of my grandparents was a werewolf, I guess. Why?” 

“Do you have a genealogy report or family tree or something?”

“Is that something people regularly carry in their back pockets?” Derek asks incredulously.

“Yeah, no, sorry. Okay look at this,” Stiles says handing the book over and pointing down at a passage. 

“This means nothing to me,”

“Look the native americans have records of werewolves in this area dating back ages. There are supposedly some caves near by, we should go!”

“So there have been wolves around here for a while, I don’t get it.” Derek says. 

“This could answer everything,” Stiles exclaims gesticulating wildly. Derek can’t help but smile, he might not ever feel as excited as Stiles seems to for the littles things, but it’s always fun to watch. “No seriously dude.” Stiles says watching Derek’s smirk, as he stands up and starts to pace.

“Okay so...?” Derek presses, also standing. 

“We’ve been looking at this werewolf thing through the wrong lens, as if it’s a curse or something magical. But the fact that you exist proves that there’s a genetic component. So, what if it’s just an evolutionary trait. That at some point when early hominids were becoming homo sapiens or whatever, werewolves popped up all uh homo canis lupis,”

“This is a fascinating theory,” Derek says in a mildly patronizing tone.

“No, Derek. If it’s a genetic trait, then it could -- we could figure out so much, why some people reject the bite, maybe even a cure, we could look for genetic indicators, this is a big deal.” Derek just shrugged. “Oh for the love of god, where is Lydia when you need her,” Stiles mutters, looking for his phone. Something about Stiles needing Lydia for something, made Derek uncomfortable, annoyed. He tried to ignore it, or add it to the list of things to ignore when he was near Stiles. Derek had turned back around and was leaning to pick the book up when he heard Stiles’s heart start to pick up. _Jeez this kid is excited about genetics._ He thought to himself, but then the heartbeat kept getting faster and faster, and he whipped around to see Stiles leaning over his desk, face contorted in focus. 

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” Stiles grumbled starting to pant, clenching his fists. “No, no no,” but of course it just made the panic grow, envelop him more completely. Derek had never actually seen someone have a panic attack, but he was sure that’s what was happening to Stiles as he slowly walked over, approaching him like he would one of his betas. He wrapped his arms around Stiles and whispered into his year, more sounds than actual words, muttering every comforting phrase he could think of other than _calm down_. And slowly he felt the heartbeat start to come down, fade into Stiles’s normal rhythm.

“What was that?” Derek asked when Stiles was breathing normally again.

“That was a panic attack. They’re awesome,” Stiles said shaking his head. “I’m so sorry, god, I’m such a spazz.” 

“What caused it?” Derek asked point blank, avoiding that whole common human decency of if it’s not too personal. 

“Uh--,” Stiles starts, taking the deep breath which meant he was trying to find a lie, but couldn’t think of a good enough one. “If this is all, if my theory... If werewolfism or whatever is a genetic trait, and werewolves have been in this part of California for as long as this would indicate,” he says motioning toward the book on his desk. “There’s a really good chance your family is descended from the first pack that sprung up here.” Derek nodded, he could see where this was going, and although he didn’t understand why it caused a panic in Stiles, he was feeling his own chest start to tighten. “Yeah, so, if its true, there’s a good chance we could find more of your family. I mean, it wouldn’t be direct family, by a longshot, but the pack bond would still be there,” Stiles finished.

“Okay,” Derek said simply.

“Okay? Just okay?” Stiles asks.

“Why did that make you panic?” Derek asks. Stiles mentally kicks himself, and the werewolf in front of him, again with the wildly personal questions asked as if they’re nothing. 

“I mean, it’s a lot of pressure, I guess. I wanted to find your family, and then I started thinking about what if we couldn’t and the rest is physiology,” Stiles said looking down at the floor. He’s not sure if he would’ve been more surprised or less surprised about what happened next if he’d been looking directly at Derek. Derek took a step closer to Stiles, lifting his face up and capturing his lips in one swift move. Stiles of course returns the kiss, smiling against Derek’s lips as he rests his hands on Derek’s chest. When they break apart, Stiles is a little breathless and woozy. 

“What -- what was that?” He asks.

“You gave yourself a panic attack over finding more of my pack,” he said nonchalantly. 

“Uh, that’s no --,” Stiles started, but stopped himself, glancing down at Derek’s lips before moving forward and capturing his lips in a kiss. This one was less of a surprise, Derek fell into it easily, as they each fought for dominance, pressing their mouths hot and open at each other aggressively. Stiles moans slightly as Derek’s tongue dips past his lips, and it’s as if the sound wakes Derek up. He pulls away quickly. 

“We can’t, we, I --,” Derek starts looking at Stiles, his lips puffy and eyes questioning. Derek groans inwardly. 

“Why?” Stiles asks taking a step towards him.

“Because you’re --,” Derek starts as Stiles looks at him, head tilted to the side curiously. Too good for this, too important to our pack, because _I’ll hurt you_ he thinks. “Stiles,” Derek finishes with a sigh. 

“And you’re Derek,” Stiles replies with a smirk. “Now that we’ve gotten that cleared up--,” he adds taking a step closer and placing his hand on Derek’s chest. Derek grabs his hand, holding on for a few seconds before pulling it down and turning towards the bedroom door. 

“I’m just going to go,” Derek says opening the door and moving quickly out of it. Leaving Stiles standing in the middle of his bedroom replaying the events of the evening.

*****  
For the next week, Stiles’s texts remain unanswered. Every time he heads over to the apartment the alpha is suspiciously absent. At first, Stiles is insulted, frustrated, and generally pissed off. But by mid-week he stops looking and texting and moves on with his summer, which is of course how he finds himself in Lydia’s bedroom complaining about temperamental werewolves the next Thursday night. 

“Mhmm,” she says sitting at the mirror and pulling her hair back.

“Nope, I’m done,” he says turning over on her bed pulling a fluffy stuffed pink thing with him as he makes weird faces at it before tossing it back down on the bed. “Where are you going?” 

“Somewhere with Jackson,” she responds nonchalantly over her shoulder. 

“Don’t they have training or something on Thursdays?” he asks, aiming for a tone of disinterest and missing it entirely. At that Lydia wheels around and looks at him curiously chuckling.

“Oh, Stiles,” she says with a cheshire grin. “When was the last time you talked to anyone?” she asks.

“I dunno, Scott’s been all over Allison. Isaac’s working. I was at the apartment earlier this week, what? What’s going on?”

“You, you idiot,” she says smiling. “None of them have seen Derek in a week. He sent Boyd some cryptic text saying that he was alive and training was off on Tuesday or something, and no other word.” At that, Stiles stands quickly and mutters something about needing to pick up things for his father and makes his exit. Lydia rolls her eyes turning back to the mirror. 

*****  
“I know you’re here,” Stiles says into the rafters of the building. Derek comes out onto the landing of the second floor staring down at him. 

“How did you --,” Derek starts but is cut off.

“Find you?” Stiles asks smiling. “Well let’s see,” he says dragging his hand across the banister. “Derek Hale is off angsting but not tormenting his betas,” he finishes flatly, mathematically as Derek descends the stairs.

“What do you want Stiles?” Derek asks taking a seat on the stairs and placing his head in his hands. Stiles moves slowly, reaching out his hand to rest on the other man then thinking better of it and taking a seat next to him on the stair.

“I thought that part was obvious,” Stiles says smiling. They sit there silently for a while, each afraid to breath too hard, to disrupt the charge in the air. “Uh,” Stiles starts. “So, how long have you known?” Derek looks at him questioningly and he adds. “Come on, you’re a werewolf, I’ve gotta smell hot for teacher or something. You ran like it was more than just a mistake or a bad idea but like you knew, so I’m just curious. How long?”

“I dunno,” Derek starts, turning his head just slightly to look at Stiles. “Maybe a few months, it’s not just like something I could smell or knew or whatever. And for a while I thought it was me or just in my head,”

“I thought you were being polite,” Stiles started looking up at him. “The last year or so, I just thought, ‘he must smell it on me and he’s not into it so he’s being cool about it, good’ --,”

“I’m not that polite,” Derek muttered looking back at the floor. “Clearly” he added under his breath. Stiles takes a beat, there are so many ways he wants to respond to that, so many points to make and issues to argue. But mostly he just wants to reach out to him. 

“I’m not going to break, and you’re not going to hurt me, and we’ll stop trying to save each other all the time,” Stiles starts shoving Derek’s shoulder. “But, dude, we tried it your way -- ignoring each other, and it kind of sucked. So let’s just go back to normal, and see where it goes. We should absolutely do more of the kissing, and if it’s something, it’s something. If it’s nothing, it’s nothing.” Stiles continues. To Derek’s credit, he made it through most of what Stiles was trying to say, through to the mention of further kissing before he lost all focus on the conversation at hand, watching Stiles’s lips move around every word, the way his creamy skin pulled taut around certain syllables. Stiles was still pushing, still convincing, still filling the space with words and gestures when Derek leaned in captured his lips. At that his entire body relaxed and fell into the kiss. “Yeah, this,” Stiles added when they broke apart, smiling at the other man.


End file.
